“I’m sure I do not know what that was,” replied the lady, coolly, “except that you were very tipsy.”
“Granted, madam: you took advantage of it; and your conduct—”
“My conduct, Mr Sullivan!” replied his wife, kindling with anger.
“Yes, Mrs Sullivan, your conduct. A married woman, madam, who allows gentlemen—”
“Gentlemen, Mr Sullivan! I allow no gentlemen but yourself. Are you sure that you are quite sober?”
“Yes, madam, I am; but this affected coolness will not avail you: deny, if you can, that Colonel Ellice did not last night—”
“Well, then, I do deny it. Neither Colonel Ellice nor any other man ever did—”
“Did what, madam?” interrupted the husband, in a rage.
“I was going to observe, if you had not interrupted me, that no one was wanting in proper respect towards me,” replied the lady, who grew more cool as her husband increased in choler. “Pray, Mr Sullivan, may I inquire who is the author of this slander?”
“The author, madam! look at me—to your confusion look at me!”